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CHILDREN IN THE WOOD : 

A MUSICAL PIECEy 

IN TWO ACTSf 



BY THOMAS MORTON, ESU. 
It 

As performed 

AT THE NEW-YORK THEATRE. 

From the proinpt-book — by permission. 
second edition. 



NEW- YORK : 

PUBLISHED BY D. LONGWORTH, 

At the i>ramatie Repository, 

L V'^''^-^//> Wav.— 1816. 






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DRAMATIS PEUSOXj*; 



Sir Rowland. - - - Mr. Ha lam, junr. 

Lord Alford, - - - Mr. Tyler. 

Walter. ... - Mr. Hodjjkinson. 

Apathy. . - - - Mr. Johnson. 

cLbriel, ... - ^Jr.Mart.,,. 

Oliver, . - - . Mr.Burd. 

Ruffians, Servants, Mutes, &c. 

Helen, . - - - Mrs. Melmoth. 

Josephine, . - - Mrs Darley. 

Winifred, . . - • Mrs. Ho?g. 



Boy, 



Miss Petit, 



6j^| . . - . . Miss Delaraater- 
Female Servants, &c. 
SCENE— }oTd Alford's castle ?nd neighborhood. 

Memorandum— /Ae passages distinguhked by inverted 
' commas, thus (") are omitted in 1M performance. 



CHILDREN IN THE WOOD. 



A C T 1. 

^^ SCENE I — a hall. 

APATHY, discovered with books, a bottle and glass^ 

Apathy. What a set of fools are philosophers, who ad- 
vise you to study away life for the benefit, of posterity ; 
that is, die while you lire, that you may lire wheu you 
die. Ay, these things {shewing books) may do well 
enough to garnish the brains of fools, but this is the 
feast of reason, {drinks) As tutor to these orphans, I 
have a tolerable easy life : — I pimp for their uncle, ray 
patron ; that*s no difficult matter : — muster latin enough 
to puzzle the parson ; that's no difficult matter ; — teach 
children idleness, that's no difficult matter ; — go into 
the cellar for an hour or two ; that's no difficult mat- 
ter ; come out again ; that's no difficult — yes, that's 
sometimes a very difficult matter, {drinks) 

enter Josephine. 

Jes. Mr. Apathy — shame on you^ drinking in a 
morning ! 

Ap. Why, my dear, sir Rowland ordered me to plead 
his passion for you ; so I was taking a drop to inspire 
me. 

Jos, I wonder sir Rowland csvd be so foolish to talk 
of love to a poor girl like me. 

Jp. So do I ; but he says he's unhappy » and how a 
man who has such a cellar as sir Rowland has, can be 
unhappy, is to me amazing ; — but have you no feeling ! 

Jos. 1 am sure you have none. Dont you remember 
wheu poor Walter, the carpenter's house was burnt 
down ? 



1 



CHILDREN W [Colmau 

Af. I have a shrewd guess, that Walter has drilled a 
hole through your heart. 

Jos Dont you remf^mber, I say, that your first inquiry 
was after the safety of the sucking pigs, and never shed 
a tear for the fate of the poor family : was that feeling ? 

A^. No, that was philosophy. 

Jf)S, Philosophy ! 

A^, Yes, my ;»hi!osophy ; and this is the fount frona 
whence it spring ( pointing to the bottle) By eating we 
attain the highest promotions of church and state. How 
do you Hcqiiir^ the dignity of lord mayor ? you eat your 
way to it. And by drinking, we approach the gods, 
who never i^alk'd — they slid (staggering J 

Jos. (hioking) Ha ! yonder comes my dear Walter ; 

1 wonder hovf he got admission. Go to the children mr. 
Apathy. 

Ap. What sbail I say to my patron ? 
Jos, i dont care what you say — only go [pushes him out) 

, SONG — JOSEPHINE. 

When nights were cold, and rain and sleet 

Full hard against the window beat ; 
Then many a long and weary mile 

My Waiter travelled to behold nae ; 
His toil repaid to see me smile, 

And sweetly in his arms enfold me ; 
And through the night we'd sit and chat;— 

Alas ! there wa« no harm in that. 
How sweet his words, whenever he spoke! 

But O ! when he bis passion broke ! 
Upon his lips, the falt'ring tale 

More grace received from his confusion ; 
And now by turns his cheeks look'd pale; 

Orcrimson'd o'er with mild suffusion ; 
Our beating hearts went pit-a-pat ; 

Alas ! — there was no harm in that. 

Sir Rowland tries our bliss to move. 
Though we so oft have sworn to love ; 

His cruelty our vows would break — 
I'll hie me to some shade tbrsaken ; 



Act I] THE WOOD. 7 

Where only of my love I'll speak — 
To prove niy faith and truth unshliken, 

I'll wander where we both have sat — 
Sure there will be no barm in that. 

enter Walter, with caution. 

Walt. My sweet Josephi^ne. 

Jos, Oh, Walter, should sir Rowland find you — 

Walt. Oh, curse that master of yours. I tell you 
what, Josephine — consent to run away from this castle^ 
or I shall think you listen to him. 

Jos. Walter, dont be a fool. I'll not leave the castle, 
while the dear orphans remain here. I must ever fulfil 
the parting injunction of my dear lady Helen, when she 
went to India to meet her husband, lord A!ford. JSays 
she, ' Josephine, thy affection for my dear infants is my 
greatest comfort ; should fate separate us, my faithful 
girl, protect them.' 

Walt. Oh, we have given op all hope of seeing lord 
Alford, and his sweet lady. Heaven rest their souls — 
heigho ! but I did not come here to cry. — I say Jose- 
phine, it's devilish hard to be so poor ; I, that everybo- 
dy says, am such an industrious clever fellow. Now 
a coffin : I'll make a coffin with e'er a carpenter in Nor- 
folk. And the farmers' wives say, that at a bed, I'm the 
thing. I'm making a bed for us^ my girl, all right and 
tight. 

Jos. I have no notion of your making beds for farm- 
ers' wives, indeed ! 

Walt. To be sure 1 have had teniptalions ; but I ne- 
ver found any perfect, but Josephine. 

SONG — WALTER. 

There was Dorothy Dump, would mutter and mump, 
And cry'd, ' my dear Walter — heighoj 

But no step she could take, could my constancy shake. 
For she had a timber toe. 

There was Deborah Rose, with her aquiline nose. 

Who cry'd, ' for you, Walter, I die !' 
Hut I laughed at each glance, she threw me askance.— 

For she had a simblet eve ! 



I CfllLDRElVlSr [Cdlm^n 

There was Tabitha Twist, had a mind to be kist J 

And ttiade on my heart an attack : 
But her love I derided, for she was lop-sided f 

And cursedly warp*d in the back ! 

There was Barbara Brian, was always a crying, 
* Dear youth, put an end to nay woes !' 

But to save in her head all the tears that she shed> 
Nature gave her a bottled nose ! 

Josephine came at last, to nail my heart fast — 
Firm as the oak will I prove to my dear ; 

And when parson Tether, has tack'd ns together. 
Some chips of the — block may appear ! 

Jos. Well that's all very well Walter, but I must have 
you all to myself, recollect Walter. 

Walt. Well to be sure you shall, oh, this cursed sic 
Rowland, he'll make you give yourself airs like a fine 
lady — egad I'm half jealous of him already. 
' Jos. Ay, ay, Walter, if I thought after we were 
married you'd be jealous, I'd never marry you at all. 

DUET — JOSEPHINE AND WALTER. 

Jos. The jealous man wont you assume when you 
marry ? 
And wont you frown, mutter, and plague me with 
doubts. 
Walt. And wont you, whenever your point you would 
carry. 
Have fits, fret and whimper, and be in the pouts ? 
Jos. No bouncing : but zounds ! ma'am, pray alter 

your plan — 
fValt. No whining and crying, you barbarous man ' 
Jos. But you love me ? 
Walt. Yes, yes I 
Jos. And be constant ? 
Walt. No, no ! 
Jos. What ! not constant ? 
Walt. Yes, yes ! 
Jos, Did you mean— 



Act I] THE WOOD. 9 

Walt, No, not so. 

Both. Vm gnre we're agreed— no more words — let 
us marry ; 
Love's meaning no aid wants from la'^^'iage I know. 
JVall. And wont you before folks, be fond, coax and 
flatter, 
While turning behind give a lover your hand ? 

Jos. And wont you when I'm in a humour to chatter. 
Cry, ' oh ! I'm so sleepy 1 can't understand ? 

fFalt, No smirking, and squeezing, my dear, and all 

that. 
Jos. No yawinng and gaping, when I want to chat ? 
Walt, But you love me ? 
Jos. Yes, yes, &c. &c. 

Sir Row. (without) This way Oliver. 
Jos. Hush, sir Rowland's voice. 

enter sir Rowland, oliveb, and two rnffians. 

Sir Row. Walter here I — slave, your business? 

Walt. My business ! oh ray business was, your honor, 
was a job. 

Sir Row. A job, was it ? 

Walt, and Jos. Yes, sir, a job. 

Sir Row. Seize that fellow ! 

(riiffians seise Walter) 

Walt. Oh dear, here's a pretty job ! 

Jos. Oh, sir, have pity I (children laugh without) 

Sir Row. Silence these brats, and prepare them for 
the visit they must pay their gossips, {children laugh) 
Silence them I say. (ciit Josephine) Soon their silence 
shall be eternal. My brother being concluded dead — 
that 'lustrious orb being set in night, shall these his pig- 
my sattellites eclipse me now ? no, that fellow I am 
sure oi\pointing to Oliver) he shall dispatch them, 
while on this seeming visit. Yet to venture him alone 
Will breed distrust , from his eye remorse is banished, 
and unmasked murder lowers upon his brow. Were it 
not well to ply this Walter ? relief from present fears, 
the hopes of Josephine, backed with tenements and 
bribfes, will surely palsv the conscience of a hind. IMJ 

B 



10 CHILDREN IN [eolmati 

about it, and usp him as the peaceful scabbard to con- 
ceal the murdering blade. Oliver, I've^ found you a 
companion for our purpose, be ready, {to ff' alter) Slave, 
follow me. {ecceunt 

^CENE II — a room — Apathy discovered asleep on a chair 
—a book lying open at kis feet^ and the children play^ 
ing about the room. 

enter josEPHmE, 

Jos. Mr. Apathy asleep ! oh fie ! [awakifig him) 
A'p. I've had a very comfortable nap. 
Jos. The children are going to visit their godfather^ 
Jp, With all my hi^art. What's o'clock. 
Jos. Kxactly mid-day. 
Jp, is dinner ready ? 
Jos. It is not ordered yet. 

A<p. Not ordered ! talk to me of children and non- 
sense, and the dinner not ordered — here ! cook ! cook ! 

[exit 
Jos. {to the boy) Have you learnt my song yet ? 
Boy. rn try to sing it, it you'll help me. 
Jos, Come then, follow me. 

DUET — BOY AND JOSEPHINE. 

Jos. Young Simon in his lovely Sue, 

Beheld a darling treasure ; 
Boy. Young Simon, &c. 
Jos. The toilsome day before him flew ; 

For love make« labor pleasure. 
Boy. The toilsome &c. 
Jos. O fie, dear boy can't you discern, 

Tis love makes labor pleasure ; 
Boy. O yes, dear girl ! I soon shall learn. 

That love makes labor pleasure. 
Jos. O fie, dear boy ! 
Boy. Oh yes, dear girl ! 
Jos. Oh fie ! cant you discern ? 
Boy. Oh yeS; dear girl, I soon shall learn. 

That love makes labor pleasure, 



Act I] THE WOOD. U 

RECITATIVE. 

Boy, But I am loath to sour sweet music's Rtrainsi 

Shall we begin ? 
Jos, Yes. 
Both. We will begin again. 

DUET: 

Jos. Young Simon in his lovely Sue, &c. 
Boy. The toilsome day, «&c. 
{during this duet the grrl remains at the top of the stage 
playing withher doll, &c.) 

Jos. Well are you perfect in your song yet ? 

Girl. Yes. 

Jos. Then sing it. 

SONG — GIRL. 

When first I slip'd my leading strings, to please her lit* 

tie Poll, 
My mother bought me at the fair, a pretty waxen doll ; 
Such sloe black eyes, and cherry cheeks, the smiling 

dear possest. 
How could 1 kiss it oft enough or hug it to my breast. 
No sooner I could chatter too, as most younj: misses do. 
Then how I long'd and sigh'd to hear my Dolly prattle 

too ; 
I curl'd her hair, in ringlets neat, and drest her very gay ; 
But yet the sulky hussey — not a syllable would say. 

ProvokM that to my questions kind, no answer could I 

get, 
I shook the little hussey well, and whipt her in a pet ; 
My mother cried, oh, fie for shame, pray let your Doll 

alone. 
If e'er you wish to have a pretty baby of your own ! 

My head on this I bridled up, and threw the play thing 

by. 
Although my sister snub'd me for't — I know the reason 

why; 
I fancy she would wish to keep the sweethearts all her 

own, 



Ifi CHILDREN IN [Colraau 

But that vshe shan't depend upon't when I'm a woipaD 
grown. 

Boy {coming down) Is your song done ? 

Girl. Yes. 

Boi/. Vcn glad of it. 

Girl. Ar'n't you my darUng *? {to her doll) If you are 
good when I am gone, you shall have a lord mayor for 
a husband ; so my dear mama said to me when she 
went away. And when I am gone, Josephine, dontyou 
Jisten to the naughty men, my mama said that to you too. 

Boy. Who goes with us tu our godfather's ? 

Jos. Oliver, my dear. * 

Boy. I won't go with Oliver. 

Jos. Why, love ? 

Boy, Because of what I heard Walter say. 

Jos. What was that ? 

Boy. That Oliver was a damn'd black looking rascal. 

Jos. Heavens ! my dear, hush, I shall scold Walter 
for talking so wickedly. 

Girl. I dont think you will. 

Jos. WV, child? 

Girl. Because last night, when you were asleep, you 
cried, * oh, Walter, how 1 love you !' oh you did ; and 
now I'm iure its true, because you blush so. 

Jos Fie, you little tell-tale, [sees fValter in earnest 
conversation with sir Roiiland) 

Girl. Oh, here's my cross uncle, let's run away ; I 
wish, Josephine, you were my uncle instead of him. 

[exeunt 

enter sir Rowland and Walter. 

Walt. What, your honor ? 

Sir Row. The children's death ! that's my purpose — 
the reward, Josephine. 

ffalt. Their death yonr purpose ! the reward, Jose- 
pliine ! tempt mo with the form of an angel, to do the 
act of a devil — murder innocents ! who— dam-me, I've 
a great mind to throttle him. Eh ! but if I refuse ? VW 
seemingly consent : and if I can but save them^ — the very 
thought makes me cry for joy. 

Sir Ron\ What, whimpering, fool ? 



Acti] THE WOOD. n 

If alt. Why, you see, sir, I'lmiot nauch used to butch- 
er children — it's rather out of ray line. 

Sir Row. What's your determination ? 
Walt. I must not consent too soon, [aside) Why, il^ 
«ir, nay honor — 

Sir Row. Honor ! it's a worthless metal ; yields no 
advantage to the holder, and is sullied by the slightest 
breath of malice. Wise men plate it over with gold ; 
that gives it currency, and repels envy's corroding jtootb. 

ff'ali. Why, that's very true ; very true to be sure 
But then to be scorned — 

Sir Row. Look through the world : — where points 
scorn his finger ? at errained guilt ? no, at ragged hones- 
ty : not at cannopied oppression — but at houseless me- 
rit. Be wise, be wise. 

IValt. Why, that's true again, your honor ; I consent; 
and if I dont — 

'S'ir Row. Hush ! Oliver will accompany you. 

fVall, Zounds ! that blood thirsty villain ! you had 
better let me do it alone. 

Sir Row. Silence ! take this sword— but first swear — 

JFalt. I never swear, my lord, never swear; it's a 
very bad habit. 

Sir Row. No trifling, fool — swear when next we 
meet, it shall be sheatk'd with biood. 

ffalt. Well for once, I will swear : by my hopes of 
mercy, it shall be sheath'd with blood, {takes the sword) 

Sir Row. Now, follow me. [exeunt 



SCENE III — an apartment in sir Rowland^s castle, 
enter Josephine, children and walter. 

Walt. My dear Josephine, I have such news to tell 
you ! I'm high in favor with sir Rowland ; I am going 
with the children. 

Girl. I'm glad you are going, Walter. 

Boy. And so am I. 

Jos. Here's your mamma's picture. 

Boy. I'll have it. 

. B2 



14 CHILDREN IN [t^olmaa 

Girl. I'm sure I ought to have it ; for I am a very 
puny little girl, and ought to be made a pet of. 

Jos. {putting the picture on the girl) Slie was an ele- 
gant woman. 

Girl. And every body says I am very like her. 

If alt. Josephine, I have something to tell you will 
make your hair stand on end. You must know — bush ! 

enter sir Rowland anrf oliver. 

Sir Row. My little prattlers, how do you do? — 
What delighted with your journey ? 

Boy and Girl. Oh ! yes. uncle, [go up the stage rviih 
sir Rowland — Oliver remains rather up) 

Jos. [comes forward with ff altei*) Walter you have 
got on a sword ! 

fValt. A sword, have I ? yes, it is a kind of a sword 
to be sure. 

Jos. What are you going to do with it ? 

JValt. What am I goiug to do with it ? oh, Josephine. 
I've such a — hum ! 

Sir Row. [comhig down rviih the children) Take leave 
of Josephine. 

Girl Good bye, Josephine ; kiss us. Dont cry — 
we'll soon come back. J^han'twe, uncle ! 

Sir Row. By all means, sweeting. [Walter takes the 
children in each hand) Farewel, my little cherubs, and 
heaven take you to its care. 

fValt. [going off) Amen ! 

[exeunt Walter leading the children^ Oliver following 

Jos. Heigho I I shall be quite uneasy till they return : 
I can't bear melancholy. 

Sir Row. How cruel then to inflict it ? 

Jos. Pi^y, my lord, cease your importunities : — were 
your passion such as with honor 1 might listen to, I 
could not love you. 

Sir Row. Josephine, hear me. — I see persuasion is in 
vain. — Mark I what has hitherto been entreaty sjiall 
now be will. Though love and gratitude be dead in 
you— fear, I perceive, exists. My purpose is determin- 
ed — refolve then quickly, a|id choose — ray love or hate, 



4ct IJ THK WOOD, U 

enter apathy rvith a bill of fare, 

DUET — JOSEPHINE and APATHY. 

Jos. Great sir, consider, to my honor Vm steady. 
Ap. Great sir, consider, tbe dinner is ready. 
Jos. An hnmble domestic is now worth you ' care. 
' Jp. Dear sir. give rae leave to present the bill offare. 

Jos, Take a lady- 

Jp. Here'.s tongue 

Jos. With honor 

Ap. And m niton, 

Jos. If handsome and young 

Jp. What a feast for a ghitton 1 

Jos. Dress'd in bodice so fine, and in kirtle so tasty- 

^^p.With bittern, and quails.and a tine ven \son pastry— 

Jos, But ah, sir, beware of jealousy ! 

Ap, And mustard. 

Jos. Else' yon will prove by ^-our care i— 

Ap. A goose and bu?tard. 

Jos. Your love is too hot. 

Ap. The mutton's overboii'd. 

Jos. My fame you would blot 

Ap. And the pig xviJI be spoii'd, 

Jos. Believe me, great sir, to my honor I'm steady. 
Ap. And believe me, great sir, the dinner is ready. 

[exeunt 



SCENE IV — a wood. 

inter oliver, looking around, and beckons to Walter, 
who enters with the children through cut wood. 

Oliv. This place will do delightfuHy. 

Halt. I dont like the place. 

Oliv. This shall be the place. 

Walt. Well, if you insist upon it : there {to the chit- 
dren) go and play, I want to talk to Oliver, {children 
retire to the back cf the stage) I tell you what, Oliver, 
I know you have one failing. 



|6 CHILDRE^'•1^ [Colmaif 

Oliv, Ay, wliat's that ? 

fFalt. You are too tender hearted — you are indeed — 
now I am so hard hearted a dog, I could murder for 
amusement. So do you go back to the castle, get the 
reward, and leave the job to me. 

Oliv, What, youMl despatch them, will you ? 

Jf alt. Yes ! yes ! you are too tender hearted — One 
may see it with half an eye. ^o, good bye. I'll do for 
them. Good bye, Oliver. 

{attempting to force h'm off) 

Oliv, Why you must think rae a pretty scoundrel. 
• Walt, [aside) I do, tor that matter. 

Oliv. To receive money for doing a bit of work, and 
not completing it, but I'll — 

{atteinpting to pass to the children) 

Walt, [stopping him) Stay, a little — eh ! — I see yon 
can't bear the thought of it ; tiiis is all put on. Your 
heart melts, [aside] how savage Le looks ! — and there's 
a tear standing on the corner of your eye. (wiping one 
from his own) Oliver, how pity becomes you ! I say^ 
Oliver, suppose we were — suppose we were — just to 
save them ? 

Oliv. What I 

Wait. I say, my dear fellow — suppose we were — how 
pretty and innocent they look — suppose we were to 
save 'em ? 

Oliv, To save them, eh ! 

Walt. Yes ! oh very well, we will — you wish it, ami 
I consent. 

Oliv. Why should we save 'em ? 

Walt, I dont know ; there are two or three trifling 
reasons to be sure. First, it is not very manly to mur- 
der helpless babes — and then, the thought of it, after- 
wards, might give one ugly pains about here, [pointing 
to his breast) and then we shall be damn'dfor it — and — 

Oliv, Now, are you not a pretty rascal ? — but I'll — 
(Oliver* makes torvards the children, who run from him, 
then kneel, and implore Walter'' s interfererice) 

Boy and Girl, O Walter, save us I 



) 



Act I] THE WOOD. 17 

JValt. {seising Oliver's arm) Only two questions 
iaoore. 

Oliv. Well ! 

TFalt. And have you the heart to it ? 

Oliv. Yes ! 

WaU. And have you an arm strong enough to fell mc 
down, you darnnM dog ? 

Oliv. Fell you ! 

fValL Ay ! tor you must, before you shall touch a 
hair of their heads, {draivs his sword) 

Oliv. Indeed ! we'll try that. 

(Oliver and Walter fight — Walter drops his sword^ 

which is taken up by the girl and given him — the 

fight is renewed, and Walter pursues and kills Oli' 

ver — during the fight f the children are up the stage) 

re-enter Walter with his sivord^ and his hand bloody. 

Walt. I never knew I had so much pluck in mc 
Damme, how I laid about his timbers. Come forth my 
Httle tremblers, I am your champion. 

Girl. Have you killed Oliver ? 

Walt, Dead as a door-nail. 

Boy. Go, kill him a^ain. 

Girl. Such a rogue as he cannot be too dead — let's go 
back to my uncle. 

Walt^ Poor innocents ! you must not go there. 

Girl. Oh, poor Walter, your hand bleeds; come^ 
ni kiss it. and make it well, f kisses his hand J 

Walt. I'm the happiest fellow in Christendom. Hold, 
what's best to be done ? eh ! 1 have it ; Til leave them 
here, return to that rascal their uncle,, get wy reward 
and Josephine, and carry them all frosf] the reach of 
the Herod. My dears, wiU you stay heie till I return ? 

Girl, We'll do any thing Walter bids us. 

Walt. Look, here's a pretty arbor ; and here's my 
cloak to sit down upon ; and hire are cakes for you 
iVow dont wander ; I'll bring Josephine to you — dont 
stir. Good bye. — Oh, lord ! oh, lord I if doing one 
worthy action gives such joy, how happy might the 



IB CHILDRElSr IN [Colmau 

great be, who have opportunities of doing thena daily. 

[exit 

Boy. Look sister, what clusters of nuts and blackber- 
ries there are yonder. 

Girl. Let's go and pluck them ; we can soon find 
our way back again you know ; they are nicer than the 
manchets Waker left us. 

Boy. I should like to live here always ; to have 
nothing to do, but play all day, catch birds, and eat 
berries. 

SONG — GIUL. 

See, brother see, on yonder bough 

The robin sits ; — hark ! I hear him now r 

Listen, brother, to the note 

From pretty robin red-breast's throat ; 

Sweetest bird that ever flew, 
Whistle, robin, loodle loo, 

Loodle loo, sweet robin, &c, 

END OF THE FIRST ACT. 



ACT II. 

SCENE I — a room in sir Rorvland^s castle, 
enter sir RowhAND^foIlorjedby a servant. 

Sir Row. To speak with me ! is it Oliver or Walter i 
heaven forfend harm should have reached my children. 

Serv. I never saw this man before, sir He says his 
business is urgent. 

Sir Roiv. Admit him. [exit servant 

enter gabriel, drunk. 

Ha \ my brother's servant. Should he be alive ? Ga- 
briel, I'm glad to see you. 



\ 



^ 1 



Act IIJ THE WOOD. Id 

Gab The joy is miitna!, your honor; but your honor 
looks a little pale ; — your countenance has not that 
rosy healthful appearance mine has. 
Sir Ro7V, Grief, Gabriel. 

Gab. Ay, your honor, and grief brin2;s on drinking, 
and then what is man ? oh never drink ! 

Sir Row. Now to know my fate, {aside) I shall soon 
meet my brother, where grief can never come. 
Gab, True, you'll meet very soon. 
Sir Row, All's safe, (aside) Where are my brother's 
sad remains ? 

Gab, Remains ! oh, he remains a little way off, your 
honor. 

Sir Row, Gabriel, this drunken guise little becomes 
your mournful errand. 

{jab. Why you see, your honor, I was sent before to 
get every thing ready ; but living on salt provisions at 
sea, gave me such a confounded thirst, that I was forced 
to stop every mile, just to moisten my mouth with a 
draught of ale ; so on the second day's journey, my 
master overtook me. So, says he Gabriel. 
Sir Row. Says ! -who says ? 

Gab. My master. — Gabriel, says he, I discharge 
you ; but my sweet mistress begg'd I might stay. So 
my master only gave me a kick, and sent me forward 
again. 

Sir Row. Ideot ! wretch ! — he's dead — 
Gab. Dead ! I could show you the mark he made 
with his foot ; and if you call that a blow for a dead 
man to give, why — however, if you won't credit the 
mark of his foot — here's the mark of his hand. 

[shows the letter) 
Sir Ro?v. {snatching it) Damnation ! 
Gab. Damnation ! a comical way of expressing joy, 
that. — Your brother's arrived, says I : — Damnation, 
says he. — 1 hope your honor has taken care of the chil- 
dren ? 

Sir Row. Ay, ay, they are taken care of. 

[poring over the letter} 



20 CHFLDRENIN [Colmait 

Gab, If that curaed thirst had not seized me, I had 
beeo here yesterday. 

Sir Row. Oh ! had you but come yesterday ! — be- 
gone ! leave me, drunkard. 

Gab, Your honor, I'll to the cellar ; for I feel a kind 
of dryness on my palate yet. — Your brother apd lady 
will soon be here, your honor ; they were not far be- 
liind me ; and I have a notion I did not come quite 
straight. [exit reeling 

Sir Row, Confusion ! — ruin I yet— if the hand of 
heaven has been stretched Ibrth to save the innocent—^ 
if the children live 

enter walter, with caution. 

Say, quick ! ( Walter advances^ draws his sword and 
^hows it bloody) It is concluded I where's Oliver ? 

ff'aU. Gone, heaven knows where. I've fulfiU'd my 
oath. Just mention the reward, your honor, Josephine, 
your honor ; the purse of angels, your honor, the 

Sir Row, Wretch ! murderer ! avoid me. Take my 
curses. Such ever be the reward of villany. 

fValt, So say I. {aside) But, your honor, consider I 
k4ird 

Sir Row. Slave, dare but to name the foul act — by 
hell, thou shalt be rewarded — a halter, villain !— g© 
from the haunts of men, and devour thy heart in misery 
and contempt. 

Walt. I should be a devil ofa fool to do that. — Make 
a companion of my conscience I does your honor find 
yours so pleasant a one ? 

Sir Row, Leave me, fellow, or 

^^ [laying his hand on his sword) 

Walt I go. I am so happy. Heigho ! {putting hia 
hand on his heart) what would he give to do that ? now 
to steal something from the pantry — endeavor to find 
Josephine, and away again to the children. Ay, fret 
and fume — they say villains inflict misery on their feK 
low creatures ; but I think they can make none so mis- 
erable as they make themselves {aside) [earii 

Sir Row, Lost beyond hope? bow shall 1 nrf 



Act II] • THE WOOD. 21 

how, but on my purpose was my brother's family 

should meet in heaven, and it shall be arcomplished. 
I'll exhaust my coffers, and, to some thriftless vassals, 
throw down the dazzling ore ; and while their senses are 
misled by the damning dear delusion, 1*11 lead them to 
destroy this hated brother. Fortune, continue dull and 
blind: — now for happiness or perdition. 



SCENE II — a rvood, 
enter the children— boy supporting the girl. 

Boy, How do you do, sister ? 

Girl. Very tired, and very hungry. I cotild eat some 
of the cakes Walter left us. 

Boy, I wish we had not left the place ; let's try 

to find it. 

Girl. I cannot, indeed I cannot. I am so sleepy, and 
the wood turns round. — But, brother, as we may sleep 

a long time, look, I put my mama's picture here ; 

{kisses the picture, then gives it to her brother to kiss, 
and then puts it in her bosom) for Josephine told me, if 
I were sick, and should sleep a long while, I should go 
where my mama is — so she'll know us by the picture. 

{thunder — children appear frightened, and cling to- 
gether) 

Boy. Are you frightened ? 

Girl. No, not much. {trembling) 

Boy. Look, yonder is a place to hide us. — I'm sure 
the thunder can't shoot us there.— — Come, sister. 

Girl. I cannot walk — indeed 1 can't — I am so sick — 
dont cry, my brother ! 

Boy. I dont cry. . {thunder) Now do try to walk a 
bit — there — there— see, T If help you — very well, very 
well. {thunder and rain) 

[ev^eunt the boy supporting the girl 

r 



22 CHILDREN IN [Colmau 

scJene III — another part of the wood, 
enter Walter 7vith a basket, 

W It. Zounds, what a peppering storm! sweet souls, 
ijow glad they'll be to see me. — The cunning rogues 
have got under the cloak, and, I dare say are fast asleep. 
{sets down the basket withdraws the cloak, and starts at 
not seeing them — then runs to the fmnt of the stage) 
What a damu'd villain I ana ! {runs up the si age and 
looks about) gone ! murder ! murder ! — oh, they have 
hid themselves to frighten me. I see you, I see you so, 
you may as well come. I see you. {pauses) They are 

gone, they are gone, 1 can never sleep more eh ! 

the pruit of a foot, {pursues the step and exit — re-enters 
greatly alarmed at not finding them) What the devil do 
I stand here for? I'll search every inch of the wood. 
rU hallo ! hallo ! hallo ! \runs off 



, SCENE IV — a road, 

enter sir Rowland with a mask, and two ruffians arm^d. 

Sir Row, Look out. 

Ruffian. The travellers have gained the bill, and have 
dismounted. 

Sir Row. Tis well ; behind that thicket wait their ap- 
proach ; be firm here's encouragement, {throws 

them his purse) This way— [exeunt 

enter lord alford, lady, and a servant, 

Alf. Thou art weary, Helen. 

Lady. In truth most sadly ; but let's on. 

Alf, No, here rest a while ; this place is most dear to 
my remembrance When my good falcoD urged on his 
quarry to this forest's verge ; reclined beneath that aged 
oak, I first saw thee, my Helen 

Lady. Ah, those times, my Alford, what were then 
our hopes aud fears : the remembrance is strong within 
Hie still. 



Act IIJ THE WOOD. 23 

AIR — LADY. 

(nritten and sung by mrs, Melmolh) 

Mark, ray Alford,. all the joys 

Attending on a wedded life, 
Heart-felt bliss, which never cloys 

The supremely happy wife. 
The man she loves always posses'^ing : 
Caress'd— oh bliss ! and ay caressing. 
May we never cease to prove, 
The delights of wedded love. 

Look around, my Alford dear, 
How kind nature points the way ; 

Each little chirping songster here. 

So blithsome, sport from spray io spray. 

Oh n:ay we, my dearest treasure, 

^e'^er forego this virtuous pleasure. 
^May we never cease to prove, 

The delights of wedded love. 

Lady. Look, my lord, this avenue displays our cas- 
tle's stubborn turrets. The western tower contains our 
lovely children ; oh, how sweetly fancy, passing the 
bounds of vision, pictures to me my babes, at great na- 
ture's bidding, stretching forth their little hands to clasp 
a mother. The thought is rapture. On, my dear lord. 
You never saw the youngest : indeed it is most like you, 
the image of Alford. Pardon these foolish tears, they 
are a mothers' joy. {s^^^S) 

Serv. Master defend yourself! 
{Jlford puts Helen behind him, the ruffians imsh on him 

and his servant — 07ie of the rujjians^ nith sir Rowland, 

attacks Alford — the other ruffian attacks his servant 

and is beat off) 

WALTER enters from the ivood. 

yValt. What, two to one ' [attacks sir Rowland, 
wounds him, and drives the other ruffian off — Alford 
retires into the wood with Helen — the two ruffians enter^ 



24 CHILDREN IIV [Colmaii 

and support sir Rowland) 

Rujf'. Are you hurt, sir? 

Sir Row. Heed not that. Have you succeeded ? 

Ruff. No, sir. The travellers escaped into the wood. 

Sir Row. Providence, 1 thank thee ! 

Ruff. Shall we pursue them ? 

Sir Row. No, on yoar souls, forbear! convey me to 
the castle. 

Riff. Shall I Cy for assistance ? 

Sir Row. Hold, I'll none. Do as I order you. 

lejceunt ruffians, bearing off sir Rowland 

re-enter Walter. 

Waif. What the devil does all this mean ? where are 
the people 1 have been fighting for ? or, where are the 
people I have been fighting with ? I'm pretty sure I 
drilled one of them— — damme, now my hand's in, I 

suppose I shall be killing a man every day. But these 

poor children — no finding them 1 am almost mad — 

night's coming on ,• ha ! another- 

[runs off as in pursuit 

SCENE V — a wood— moonlight, children discovered seem- 
i7igh/ dead, folded in each other's arms, laying on the 
bank, w th leaves srewed over them. 

enter lord ALFORDand helen,//- >m/Ae top of the stage, 
ALFOR?) supporting her. 

Alf. Dont droop, my love. We are safe. Here 
we'll remain tonig:ht. 

HeL Twa? ii'ost sir inge ! — spoil was not their aim, 
but blood ; a thousand fears press on me. — The visor'd 
rii'f< ai, b^*^ ^^^ r^'p »Tipfbo5ight 

Alf Dearest Jove cahn V^y t oubJpd mind, rest on 
that Wrdarjt b*»'j'i. [BHeri reclines :n a bank) My ser- 
vant ^ert this havijga?:! «i the castle - I'm sure my bro- 
ther's anxious care will find us ere the morning. 

SONG — lord ALFORD. 

•* When first to Helen's lute 
*' I sung, as she play'd to nie ; 



Act II] THE WOOD, 2fx 

** How came tliere then to shoot 
** A thrilling seme all through me ? 

" O, tvvas love, t.vas love ! 
'* In my eyes it glistpn'd ; 

** Twould inspire a brute 
** To sing, if Helen listened, 

**0, ray love, my love. 
" Why cull I with delight 
** This ditty*s plaintivf^ numbers ? 
** To wrap my fair Ir^ >ight, 
"And sooth iT:y 1ft -^o*s slumbers ! 

*' Oh, tis love, tis io . 

*' Lullaby, my dearest ; 
** Care from thee take flight, 

** And peace thy heart be nearest ! 
" O, my love, my love 1" 

jilj\ She sleeps. I'll forth, and under covert of the 
friendiv shade, descry if danger be aloof, [advances 
where the children are, starts at seeing ihem) Heavenly 
powers ! — what's here ? — two infants ! — and cold even 
to death I poor wretched babes ! poor wretched pa- 
rents ! — what pangs must rend tiieir hearts ? how shall 
I thank heaven for giving mine a brother's fostering 
care ? [takes the girl in his arms) cold, cold and breath- 
less. Hold ! life seems newly ebbed, [puts his hand 
upon her breast, and pulls out the picture — comes for- 
7vard, and looking at iU exclaims) Merciful powers, my 
own children ! 

HeL [alarmed^ awakes) My Aiford ! [advances and 
snatches the picture from him, when looking at it 
shrieks) My child ! my child ! [falls on the bank, and 

embraces the girl) my darling girl dead ! [taking her 

in her arms— lord Aiford takes up the boy) 

Alf. How chilling cold !— brother I — barbarian ! 
monster ! 

Hel. Hush ! [feels for pulsation, and describes by her 
mariner she perceives it — nilh great anxiety turrs her 
eyes on the girl, who, after a short pause^ opens them) 

C 2 



2Q CHILDREN IN [Colmaii 

Oh, God ! sbe lives! she lives ! my husband — oh I fear 
to ask- how is the boy ? 

jilf. He will recover. 

HeL How c|ime they there ? but let's away. 

^If. At the eastern extremity ofthis forest stands aa 
humble cot. There we'll hasten— thy feeble arms can- 
not sustain — 

Hel. Away, away ! under my own disasters I might 
droop ; but a mother's fears give amazonian strength— 
away my lord ! 

[exeuntf bearing the children off 

scEJ^rE ri — inside of Walter^ s house, 

enter winifred and Josephine, bringing in a table, on 
ivhich is placed three wooden trenchers, a roast fowl, 
knives, forks, &c. 

Win. {speaking as she enters) I thought so. — Well, 
and so— 

Jos, And, goody, a servant came to the castle, and 
sir Rowland ordered him to be confined in the dark tow- 
er ,• and do you know, old Stingo says it is a servant of 
lord Allbrd's. 

Win 1 thought so. — Well, and so— ^ 

Jos, Why, goody — then sir Rowland went out disgui- 
sed, with tour men-^and in the confusion 1 slipt out. — 
But, goody, Where's Walter ? 

Win, Oh. heaven knows whether we shall ever see 
the dear boy again. 

Jos. Oh dear, you frighten me ; why goody ? 

Win. Why ! do you know I saw a spider crawling up 
the side of the chimney ; and the horse-shoe was last 
night taken from the door. 

Walt, {without) Hollo ! 

enter Walter at the door and shuts it, 

Jos. H«re is Walter. 
Win. I thought so. 
(Walter in extreme dejection^ pale, &c, takes a chair, 
brings it forward, and sits down) 



Act II] THE WOOD. 25i 

Win. {looking at him) Why, child, what's the mat- 
ter ? have you seen a ghost ? sit cross-legg'd, my dear 
boy. 

Walt. There, will that please you ? -{Josephine taps 
him on the shoulder, he jumps up alarmed) Oh, Jose- 
phine, is it you ? 

Jos. Well, Walter, where did you leave the children ? 

Walt. Ufider a tree : and I told them only to stay 
there till I — 

Jos. Under a tree !— oh, in the gentleman's garden--*- 

Walt. No, no. {recollecting himself) Yes, yes, to be 
surej where else ? should I leave them in a wood, where 
they might be starved ? 

Jos. iVo, that I am sure you would hot. 

Wa^^ I never was afraid of goblins ; but to-night I 
thought every cow a ghost, and took old jowler for the 
devil. 

Win. Ay, ay, old Tab did not scratch under hep 
left ear for nothing ; a sure sign somebody will be hang- 
ed ! 

Walt. Damn old Tab. 

Jos. Fie, Walter, you have been drinking. 

Walt. My own tears then, {aside) 

Win. But come, here's a tapon for your supper. 

Walt. Oh, if the dear children had that capon- 
Jos. Lord, Walter ! why they have plenty. 
Walt. Plenty have they ? {recovering) to be sure they 
have ; I know that as well as you I suppose, (pertly) 

Jos. Had I known how cross you would have been — 
I would not have come, [weeps] 

Walt. I beg your pardon, Josephine — dont cry my 
girl — I am almost mad. {sits down at the table avtd 
throws down the salt) 

Win. {sitting behind the table) Oh, he's spilt the salt I 
— and I vow there's a winding sheet in the candle. 

Walt. Damn it mother, dont frighten me so — Jose^ 
phine, my dear girl, siiig me a song — I can't eat— I'm 
not well. 

Jos. {sitting down) I'll sing you what I bought of the 
old blind pedlar, who passed by this morning. It's en 



28 CHILDREN IN [Colman 

titled and called the Norfolk tragedy, showing how the 
ghost, a murdered bahe — 

Walt, [alarmed] No, no dont sing that ! 

Win. Yes, yes, sing it, Josephine. 

JOSEPHINE sings. 

A yeoman of no mean degree. 
For thirst of gain and lucre he 
A pretty babe did murder strait, 
By reason of its large estate. 

To vex him to his heart's content. 
To him the murder'd babe was sent ; 
Full blue appear'd the candle flame, 
-And a knocking at the window came, 

(knocking mthout at the mndow—all start np from the 
table, alarmed) 

Jos. Walter, why do you tremble ? — are you fright- 
ened ? 

Walt. Me frightened — bless your souN— go ou--non- 
sense. 

JOSEPHINE sings. 

• His conscience sorely smitted him, 
And made him tremble every limb ; 
With that the ghost began to roar. 
And straitway bur>ted ope' the door. 

{knocking at the door without, at which ihey all start up 
from 'he table — the door is burst open, Winnifred and 
Joseph ne retire greatly alarmed- Walter remains 
near the table, trembling, and fearing to look towards 
the door) 

enter lord alford, helen and the iwo children. 

(Walter seeing the children, who run immediately to him, 
falls on his knees, hugs and kisses them, then says) 

What alive ! o lord ! o lord ! o lord !— what, my ho- 
nor'd lord and lady too ! — oh, its too much. Josephine 
(some here, down on your knees — 



Act II] THE WOOD. 29 

Hel, My faithful girl, explain these wonders. 

Jos I cannot, lady, Walter can. 

V^alt. The — I know nothing — yes, I know every 
thing You see, my lord, your brother ; ah, you little 
rogues to run away. And so, my lord, your brother, 
and Oliver, and J, ray lord — I can't tell you know. 

(kissing the children} 

Girl. Vm very hungry. 

Walt. Hungry are you ! [snatching up the children 
and seats them at the table mth signs (^ extravagant joyi 

Ap. [wiihout] Let none pass. 

enter apathy and two constables, 

Ap, Seize that murderer of innocents ! 

[Walter laughs} 
Do you laugh, you hardened — ^ 

Wale. Laugh ! look there — [showing the children} 

Ap. Bless my ^oul, there they are at supper— a ca- 
pon, I declare ! very pretty eating, [seeing lord Alftrd 
and his lady} Oh, my lord, your brother is dying ; he 
ha>j confess'd he employed Oliver and Walter here, to 
murder your children 

Walt. True ! and I killed Oliver 

Alf My gallant fellow I 

Ap. He then plaimed your destruction — 

Alf. O cursed ambition ! wretched brother I 

Ap. And went out with armed ruffians to attack you. 

Hel But heaven sent an unknown hand to rescue ds 
— Walter, couldst thou but find -- 

Walt. Why, my lady, I believe I could, find him. 

[with modest hesitation) 

Hel. Sure that look ! Walter you protected us ? 

Walt. Why I believe I did. 

Hel. My preserver ! 

Alf. My friend! 

Walt. Dear, my lord — sweet dear lady, dontkill me 

with kindness : 1 can't bear it. I'm too happy. 

Could ill-gotten wealth do this ? 

Hel. Name some reward, 

Walt. A treasure ! 



30 CHILDREIV IN [Colman 

Alf. If India can produce it, it is yours. 

Walt. My lord, you need not go so far ;^ there's the 
treasure I want— give me my little Josephine, and I ajn 
happy. 

Ilel. My good girl, receive from my hand your faith- 
ful Vv alter ; it shall be my anxious care to reward his 
virtues. 

Walt. I'll serve, madam, with my latest breath ;— - 
but, I trust, the CHILDREN in the wood, will to-night, 
find better friends, than poor Walter. 

FINALE. 
WALTER. 

1 have saved this girl and boy : 

I'st so understood, sirs ? 
May I hallo now for joy. 

Are we out of the wood, sirs ? 

CHORUS. 

Have we saved, &c. 

lord ALFORD. 

Providence has smiled on me, 

Happy as I may be ; 
O father see — at either knee, 

A rosy dimpled baby. 

CHORUS. 

Have, we saved, &€. 

HELEN. 

Fullest mine of mother's bliss. 

Fuller nought ran make it ; 
Since all to night who witness this. 

Seem kindly to partake it. 

CHORUS. 

Have we saved, &c. 



Act II] 



THE WOOD. 



31 



JOSEPHINE. 



Now my Walter I shall wed, 
Gaj my heart aiid light, sirs ;- 



WALTER. 



And I. my girl, have made a bed, 
To fit us right and tight, sirs, 



CHORUS. 



Have we saved this girl and boy ? 

Is't so understood, sirs ? 
May I hallo now for joy ! 

Are we out of the wood, sirs ? 



END OP CHILDREN IN THE WOOD, 




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